Dear Chester,

After years of being together I have come to realize that you hate me. Regardless, I love you and that is unconditional. You are a cat and will therefore never read this—even if you could you probably wouldn’t deign to do so—but I feel I must express my borderline obsessive feelings for you.

I had been dreaming about getting my own cat for years and when I was nine that dream finally came true. When I first saw you, you were attempting to climb the side of a chair like some kind of cat-Spiderman but, being only a few days old, began to fall. I caught you and your prickly little kitten claws latched mercilessly into my arms and hands, thankless to my rescue. That should have been a sign. But (at least the way I remember it) a light opened up from the heavens as cat angels meowed down upon me. You were chosen.

For the first few weeks you were nothing but a little cute and cuddly sleepy ball of fur. I bought little cat beds for you and presented you with toys. When you first tried Fancy Feast for the first time you purred so loud and became even cuter than usual.

But over the years you’ve bitten me more times than I can count, often bringing younger me to tears. You only cuddle on your terms and never like to be picked up—ever. The only toys you care for are innocent little animals and hair ties. You're a pretty weird cat.

But I have you all figured out, Chester. You are a user. If you need food or attention you act almost desirable. It’s so rare that we have a genuine moment of mutual appreciation for each other that it shocks me when it happens. Yeah, I remember that time (August 19^th) that we cuddled and I will cherish that forever.

I’m sorry I sat on you that one time because I thought you were a pillow. Also, I hope you don’t hate me because I named you ‘Chester.’ I was nine and got the name from a book about a bunny vampire. Please forgive me.

Love,

Your eternal slave and owner (Laura)